


Delicate Things

by lielabell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Dubious Consent, F/M, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has so many secrets, so many sins, and he is the darkest of them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate Things

**Author's Note:**

> Not really dub-con, but I thought I would warn for it anyway.

Ginny doesn’t want to admit how she feels about him. It isn’t right, and she was the sort who never willingly does what is wrong. So she keep a tight bottle on her desires and does her best not to let her true feelings show. But in bed, when everyone else was asleep and a silencing charm is in place, she gives in to her longings.

She lets her hands drift across her body pretending they are his. She closes her eyes and pictures him standing naked before her. She touches herself, softly at first, then rougher, the way she knows he would. And when she comes she screams out his name.

Yet, for all her explorations, it is the dreams of him that leave her panting for more.

Every night it is the same. In her dreams he comes; his hair a tangle, his eyes lit with inner demons. And she willingly opens herself to him.

He sneaks into her bedroom, his feet making no sound as he crosses the hardwood floor. He makes his way to the edge of her bed then stops, as if waiting for an invitation. His eyes fill with lust as he gazes at the sleeping girl. Her long red hair fanned out across her pillow, her blankets twisted and her nightgown hiked up about her hips, exposing endless amounts of creamy flesh to him.

His hands skim up her legs, under the hem of her nightgown, and firmly spread her legs apart. His fingers gently stroke the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his nails rasping along the edge of her white cotton knickers. He pulls them down, exposing her to the air. She gasps, waking at the feel of hands on her, in her, taking her places she’s never been. She tries to sit up, but his wand is already out and the spells he cast leave her unable to move or speak. Her eyes widen in shock and fear as his lock with hers and he smiles.

It’s not a pleasant smile. It is one of possession. The twist of his lips makes him look angry but satisfied, as if he can sense how much she hates yet loves him. His pale blond hair slides down to hide his gaze and she shivers as his breath caress her thighs. Then his mouth is on her down there, making her want him and hate herself for wanting him.

She doesn’t know what he is doing, but it feels good. He sucks and bites and licks and she moans in silence, her body clenching, wanting something she has never had. She feels him moving, his mouth no longer bringing her that sweet pleasure tinted with pain. Now he is above her, his hands braced on either side of her head, his hips pressed tight against hers. She is frightened and her fear makes her want it more.

Then he moves and she is filled with pain. Such exquisite pain. The sort that makes her buck and heave. She twists against her invisible bonds as he stabs into her over and over again, hurting her in ways that she never could.

Then he pulls out, his eyes filled with disgust, and tells her what a bad girl she is. He lifts himself up until he is straddling her shoulders and pushes his parts in her faces. “Suck it,” he hisses. “Suck it clean.” And she does. Her mouth swallowing it down as he thrusts it deep inside. She gags and he laughs. He tells her she’s worthless, he tells her she’s not even good at this and then he shoves it in so hard and so fast that she thinks he is going to split her open. It hurts. Just like when he is between her legs. It hurts so bad that she feels alive.

Then he’s done, pulling up his trousers and heading for the door. He doesn’t say a word as he leaves her bleeding on the bed, her once pristine nightgown torn and her knickers twisted about her ankles.

When she wakes, Ginny wishes her dreams were reality. She want to feel his hate, wants him to make her hurt. She is bad, a dirty little girl who longs for things she shouldn’t even know about. She is tainted, that is why Tom sought her out, why Tom wanted her. But she is weak, which is why he left.

She wants someone to hurt her like Tom did and he is the perfect match. His eyes dismiss her, telling her without words that he knows what she is. He’s full of hate, so full it surprises her that it doesn’t come bursting out.

In her dreams he makes her whole again. Ginny is sure if she could get him to fulfill them she would feel again. She’s so numb, so dulled by life. Her eyes focus only when he is near, her ears hear only when he speaks.

She has so many secrets, so many sins, and he is the darkest of them all. She wants to get on her knees and beg, she wants to tell him she would do anything, anything, if only he would give her the pain she needs. But she doesn’t. She can only give if he wants to take. She knows that anything else wouldn’t be satisfying.

So she watches. She puts herself in his path, challenges him at every turn, and hides the need, the desperate need, that fills her polluted soul.


End file.
